


What Can I Do For You?

by DittyWrites



Series: Gotham Rogues Drabbles [9]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Manipulation, Professor Crane - Freeform, Snark, Student Harley, Teacher-Student Relationship, University, mild manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 06:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWrites/pseuds/DittyWrites
Summary: Professor Jonathan Crane has an interesting encounter with one of his students, a Miss Harleen Quinzel.





	What Can I Do For You?

**Author's Note:**

> This was a tumblr prompt and i love the idea of Jon having taught Harley at Gotham University so here we are.
> 
> Non-shippy.

Keeping his voice as even as possible, Jonathan swept his eyes slowly across the lecture hall as he posed his question.

“Can anyone see the flaw in Mr. Lloyds' hypothesis?” Total silence met him as each student valiantly fought to avoid his eye lest they be chosen to answer him. “No one at all? I am disap-”

“He had failed to account for the inclusion of environmental factors which may add bias to the results. His decision to host the questionnaire within a cramped, dark office space may create anxiety within the participant and skew the results.”

As the female voice rang out confidently across the room, Jonathan raised an eyebrow. Impressive. She had picked up the obvious issue and had been able to explain it perfectly. Seeking out the source of the voice, his eyes met a young blonde woman who sat a few rows from the front.

“Correct, Ms?”

“Quinzel.” The woman smiled pleasantly as he focused on her.

Wanting to further test her, he pushed his glasses back up his nose and continued.

“And how could this bias be eliminated?”

“The questionnaire could be presented to the participant within a more open space which may eliminate some anxiety but it is impossible to completely eliminate the bias as we have no knowledge of what fears the participants may already possess.”

“Excellent!” Giving a rare smile, Jonthan nodded at her. “Now, you are all required to take note of Ms. Quinzels' observation and I would like each student here to discover at least two other issues which could arise from Mr. Lloyds' method. We will discuss your findings on Wednesday.”

Walking back behind his small podium, Jonathan clicked the small laptop to bring up the next screen of the powerpoint.

“Now, as you can see -”

 

x-x-x-x-x

 

The remainder of the lesson continued on in regular fashion, with the majority of students putting in the minimal effort while their desperate eyes darted to and from the large clock which would signal their freedom.

Before long, the shrill cry of the bell announced that the lesson was over and the quiet auditorium erupted with noise as bags were ripped open and chairs were vacated. Sighing, Jonathan walked to the other side of his small table and took his seat again, ignoring the class as they left. He had no more lectures until the late afternoon which gave him some time to finish marking the rest of the lab reports which he had collected earlier in the week.

Leaning over the desk, his pen was poised over the paper when a soft cough grabbed his attention.

Glancing up, he realised that he was not alone.

“Miss Quinzel!?” He exclaimed as the blonde stood confidently before him, “Would you like to speak with me?” He gestured to the empty chair which sat on the opposite side of the desk.

Smiling at him, she slid into the seat.

“Sure, Doc.”

Returning her smile, with a small one of his own, Jonathan corrected her.

“I prefer Professor.”

“Sure, Professor.”

“So what can I do for you, Miss Quinzel?”

“Call me Harley, everyone does.”

“What can I help you with, Harley?”

“Can I just say, Professor, that you are one of my favourite lecturers here,” Harley began, her voice full of praise, “and it was your lecture last year on the development of phobias in the modern world that inspired me to take this class.”

“I am pleased to hear that.”

“You were also the lecturer who stuck up for me that one time I almost got suspended and I always wanted to say thank you for it.”

Hmm. He had never seen this women before today and any memory of having assisted her was not coming to him.

“I did? I must apologise because I cannot reca-”

“It was early last year,” Harley elaborated, “and I almost got suspended cause some creep tried to put his hands on me in my social class and I knocked him out with a very hard punch. Your signature was on the bottom of the sheet which said I was allowed to stay at the university.”

A memory hit him and he nodded in recognition, giving her a simple explanation.

“I do not like bullies.”

Recalling the incident, he also remembered a little bit more about the woman before him. She had been one of the few to receive a full athletic scholarship into the university. For gymnastics, he was sure. At the time of the incident she had been in the top third of her class and if her work today was any indication she was still excelling.

His thoughts were interrupted as Harley spoke again.

“I actually have a favour to ask of you, Professor Crane.” Her voice was still friendly but the lightness of it caused his interest to perk.

“Yes?”

Placing his hands on the desk, he cursed silently as he accidentally knocked his pen off the edge. As he bent down to retrieve it he amused himself with considering what kind of favour she could need. Most likely an extension on a deadline. Students these days had no respect for deadlines.

Pulling himself upright and placing his hands on the desk again, he was surprised to notice that Harley had not appeared to have moved a single inch.

And yet the top button of her blouse had come undone.

Refraining from rolling his eyes and a little disappointed with her actions, he sat silently as he waited for her to continue.

“I was planning on interning at Arkham over the coming summer and I would love it if you gave me a recommendation, Doctor Crane.” Still as happy as ever, she even went so far as to bat her eyelashes at him.

Setting his mouth in a straight line, Jonathan shook his head as he glanced back at his papers.

“I do not have that kind of power, Miss Quinzel.”

Her body leaned forward enough to force Jonathan to look at her and when his gaze locked with hers he found himself momentarily caught off-guard at her expression.

Gone was the bubbly attitude and friendly exterior, now replaced by staunch determination which was only overshadowed by a look of pure hunger which he recognised.

Ambition.

With absolutely no trace of an accent, she argued his rejection.

“Yes, you do. When new criminal patients are admitted into the asylum you assist on the majority of their evaluations and I am aware that you host both private and group sessions with patients who have conditions which range from depression to sadistic psychopathy.”

Clearing her throat, she continued.

“Your word would mean a lot to the staff and I know you could get me in the door. My grades are good enough to make me a serious candidate but I want to be certain of a place.”

All thoughts of the lab reports gone from his mind, Jonathan focused fully on her for the first time since she had taken the seat.

“Why?”

“You are notorious for being the final word professionally on phobias and human fear. That is your niche.” She gestured to him with a hand. “I have a very large interest in extreme personalities and Arkham is perfect for me to explore that niche interest.”

She had done her research. The majority of his published works were centered on human phobias and their varying origins. An idea had even come to him recently and he had started a private project which was designed to explore whether or not a chemical compound could be created to stimulate the brain into experiencing fear and anxiety.

Fear was his niche.

“And to what end would you like to explore these personalities?”

Her serious expression disappeared and was quickly replaced with another one of her bright smiles, a smile which did not quite cover the ambition in her eyes.

“I want to help people get better. I want to help these people overcome their illnesses.”

She was lying.

But he did not particularly care.

Arkham was truly full of the worst of humanity and if his private project came to fruition he was hoping to get permission to use some of its criminal inhabitants to volunteer to test the formula.

Considering the woman before him for a minute silently, his instincts were telling him that she bore no genuine ill will towards the patients. She was ambitious, but not dangerous, and if she wanted to experience the fresh hell that was Arkham Asylum then he would not stop her.

She had caught his interest and that was a rare occasion in itself.

So he would do it.

Pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, he gave her a sharp nod.

“I will see what I can do for you, Miss Quinzel. On the condition that you continue to excel in your chosen subjects.”

“Aww thanks Doctah Crane! You're the absolute best!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Also, I really hope your meeting with the faculty goes well!”

Again off-footed by the blonde, Jonathan covered his shock and asked.

“How do you know about that?”

“People talk.” She shrugged.

“I am not concerned by my meeting.” He confessed. “I will most likely receive a small disciplinary for my actions, perhaps a week off with no pay, and then I will return to my work immediately.”

“If it makes ya feel any better,” Harley soothed him, “I would have loved to have seen a gun fired in class. It would be really scary but exciting, yeah?”  
  
“Not everyone shares your opinion, child.”

“Everyone else is boring.”

Checking her watch, Harley jumped from the seat like it had burned her.

“Sorry Professor, but I need to get to my next class or i'm gonna be late! Thank you again for helping me out.”

“Think nothing of it.” He offered evenly, watching her passively as she practically ran from the auditorium, her shoes clacking against the flooring in her hurry.

As soon as she had disappeared from sight, Jonathan pulled the glasses from his face and sat them down gently top the stack of paper before him.

Miss Quinzel was not prepared for Arkham.

Twisting his mouth, Jonathan estimated that she would last a month at the most before the stress caused her to request a reassignment and he had no doubt that a tell-all, exploitative novel penned by one Dr H. Quinzel exploring the sensationalist world of super criminals would soon find itself on the best sellers list.

But he would fulfil her request and make a recommendation for her internship. He could type up the letter in the early hours of the following morning, just before he started to prepare for his meeting with the faculty board and faced whatever asinine punishment they had in store for him.

With her grades and his influence within the asylum, he had no doubt that she would be accepted. It was a dangerous job but the incarceration of super-criminals such as Victor Fries and the Joker had resulted in the security of the asylum being drastically improved and it was almost impossible for the inmates to physically harm the doctors.

She would be safe from any potential attack and, after all, it was only an internship.

What was the worst that could happen?

 


End file.
